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Heather Wastie writes poems, songs & monologues. This blog began with her oral history project with people who worked in the carpet industry in Kidderminster. Her carpet industry related pieces appear on this blog and in her book http://blackpear.net/authors-and-books/heather-wastie/

They worked tirelessly
Every step on the pedal
Every pull every loosen and wind
Every percent of accuracy
Parts of themselves falling between the threads
Forming rosebuds of their work
circles of colour to be
secured, enclosed
They spread themselves over metres of house and home
Created masterpieces in 4 walls
To be laid down, walked on, ripped up and put away
When another shade, pattern or feel came into fashion
Sat, waiting, wanting to be chopped into a new kind of carpet, a rug, a doormat
To be in a new place
Or to have their handiwork glanced at for a final time
See
To you or me
carpet may seem something we never think about… until we’re asked to write a poem about it.
It’s something that we see constantly without a second thought.

But to those people
It was their livelihood
And when they were gone
When their names were lost in time
Faded, like the patterns they dyed
The colours that irritated their skin
it became a fossil of themselves
The only physical proof that they, they were here
That they were

And what a legacy they left
the sound of the machines are still beating in their blood lines
They kept soldiers warm after years of fighting their own battles in the cold
Fingerprints of their existence
Inked themselves over the whole town, country,
Even world
A museum of memories to encapsulate their years
A shrine to their blood sweat and tears.

I wonder if I will ever make anything someone will want to cover their house with
Whether I’ll make anything worth a spot in a gallery, a museum
Or a book worth awards
To be studied in future generations
Whether my name will fade, disappear
Or like a star
Still seen hundreds of years after I have gone
Maybe we will leave behind a home,
memories in our loved ones minds
Words that we said
Maybe we will always be just here (gesture to heart)
Maybe we will leave a possession passed from generation to generation
Like your great grandfathers pocket watch or your grandmothers wedding ring
Maybe we will leave a poem or some carpet, a mixtape or a family video
Things that we’ve spent hours perfecting.

What will be in someone’s garage, living room, back garden, pocket or heart,
As the only proof that we existed?

A sad little girl.
She’s sat in the dark
looking out her window.
You’re late to work.

Her family are busy,
friends are just pretend,
hugging a pillow.
You’re late to work.

She found a companion,
small and furry,
sitting at her side.
You’re late to work.

Her world seems bright,
her love has grown,
a faithful friend.
You’re late to work.

Upon her window
she sees a road
with little cars.
You’re late to work

Down the road,
on the way to work,
you’re driving 60.
You’re late to work.

Her faithful pet,
saw her death,
your car’s bumper.
You’re late to work.

Her life is black,
lost again.
Her pet is dead.
Because you were late to work.

Hannah Coley

Friendship for Sale

Comes with alcohol,
and with a wireless speaker,
available all hours of the night,
sturdy shoulder to cry on,
and with free tissues.

There is a 24/7 helpline,
for any problems.
Will join in most activities,
with little regret.

Side effects
Friend might get grouchy if
not had enough rest,
also is not refundable.

Hannah Coley

Homeless

No food, no bed, no home,
living on the streets of Soho
begging stealing to feed myself
sleeping in cardboard boxes under a bridge.
I was once like you, I had everything
But my illness took it away from me.
Don’t judge me because I’m a mess.
So think of the poor homeless and unwanted
Because one day it could happen to you.

Conan Norton (Youth Centre staff)

In the street

A common thief,
stealing a drink,
you’ll think what a disgrace.
His parents have no job.

A thug in the street,
shouting abuse at a boy,
you’ll think what a disgrace,
but his dad hit him at night.

A drug addicted teen,
smoking the weed,
you’ll think what a disgrace.
His mother has died.

The scars on her arm,
an attention seeker,
you’ll think what a disgrace.
She was a boy’s cheap toy.

A 14 year old,
having sex with an older man,
you’ll think what a disgrace.
She’s looking for love.

When you see these teens
sitting in the street
and think what a disgrace,
you’ve never looked inside.

Hannah Coley

Before I die

I’ll kick smoking in the butt,
get out of my bloody rutt.

I want to save a life or two,
stop faces turning blue.

I want to get the perfect job,
don’t wanna be on the rob.

I wanna start a family too,
but I don’t like cleaning poo.

To go out, turn the town red,
then remember where’s my bed.

I want to have the best friends,
and learn how to make amends.

Wanna be good at parkour,
not end up on the floor.

And just before I die,
I will say goodbye.

Hannah Coley

Lost inside

There is pain inside her eyes,
A smile with no emotion.
Do you want to look inside?

Where is her enjoyment in life,
Sat alone in a room,
Her only friend a knife.

Her mind has shut down,
No-one has noticed,
Sat in an evening gown.

This poor girl is lost,
Inside her own thoughts,
Your actions came at a cost.

All the pain inside her mind,
And what a surprise,
No-one’s gonna be kind,
For, you’re lost inside your mind.

Hannah Coley

Error

Here is an error,
A thread astray,
That will cost me
A bay of hay.

My daughter starving,
My son is dying,
No more food,
That error will cost me.

My pigs, not plum,
The cows are dry,
No more money,
That error will cost me.

They see me walking,
In dirty rags,
I feel disgusting,
That error will cost me.

My wife is crying,
She’s lost all hope,
I love her gratefully,
That error will cost me.

Hannah Coley
I am like a piece of string
being pulled all the time

I’m not a carpet
to be walked over

I am like a giant button
as buttons get into every
nook and cranny

I am like a bag of beans
tossed here and everywhere!

Throw me on a well designed carpet
ruin me, trash me
but whatever you do
don’t throw beans

Zoe Fulloway

You are what you eat

Like a big gigantic banana
Kiwis are good like a bowl of goodness
Apples grow on trees just like my money
Oranges have peel like sour lemons

Lucy Locke

Fifteen Shillings by Conan Norton (Kidderminster Youth Centre staff)

Fifteen shillings a week
working hard with little to show.

As our masters get rich
our children are going hungry
as we work hard.

It’s time to strike and hit
the company hard.
At the end of the week
paying the rent,
not enough money
to buy a pint.

Little food does money buy
If a child’s ill I can’t let them die.

We strike to get better pay and conditions.
It’s time to hit back and win the respect.

The bosses call in the police and stop demos.
Men are hurt and women crying.

Conan Norton

A child’s mind!

Upon the floor,
what a bore,
seen every day,
then put away,
Imagination brought to life,
inside a child’s mind,
inside their room,
in another world,

In the mind,
they’ve gone inside,
on a carpet,
full of life,

A child sees
what other cannot,
a magical world
inside a single knot.

Hannah Coley

A carpet’s mind

My life’s a bore,
upon the floor,
I’m a waste.
a waste of space.

I have no voice,
no blood no mind,
I get trod on
all the time.

A life of silence,
a life of dread,
I can’t see
above the bed.

Outside I feel
the fresh air.
One day I’ll go.
I don’t care.

Hannah Coley

Carpets, carpets so pretty to see
They make me feel happy filled with glee
Lots of different shapes, lots of different colours
Please always leave room make it fair for others
They come in different silks, they come in different sizes
Please come in and see them you will have lots of surprises
They look so bright and shiny and always seen
Like my four favourite colours, red, blue, yellow and green

Rory Hayward

Looms are loud,
looms are big,
they’re hard to operate
like an oil rig

they don’t seem too interesting
but there’s more to them than meets the eye,
more complex
than a rolex

Reece Griffiths

Where’s it gone? Where’s it gone?
The lush green open space, the lush green open space?

Replaced by factories factories! carpets carpets! thriving thriving thriving!
We’re famous we’re famous for all to see for all to see!

People working people working happy shopping shopping
Now where’s it gone where’s it gone?